


across the sky in stars

by cv_angels



Series: we are the spark (a les mis star wars au) [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mutual Pining, POV Enjolras, to my knowledge there arent any spaceship battles in les mis but who can say, well canon typical for star wars i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24024874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cv_angels/pseuds/cv_angels
Summary: In Enjolras’ professional opinion as their best friend, Courfeyrac would have to be blind not to see it. Must be blind, actually, and Combeferre must be too, for all the lingering glances and shy grins. Somehow, they’ve fallen in love with each other and are the last people in the entire Rebellion to noticeA routine supply run. A starfighter battle. A near-death experience. A confession. Courfeyrac and Combeferre finally put words to this thing they've been feeling for years.
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: we are the spark (a les mis star wars au) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733023
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	across the sky in stars

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe someday I'll get around to writing the like, actual long-form star wars fic that prompted this whole au, but I wrote this one in two hours on May the Fourth, so here's this instead. Happy Revenge of the Fifth!
> 
> Title from T. E. Lawrence, "I loved you, so I drew these tides of men into my hands and wrote my will across the sky in stars"

It’s supposed to be a routine supply run. Red Squadron has been sent for a quick trip over to Crait and then back, no more than a few hours. Enjolras is taking his shift in the Command Center, watching intently as the holographic ships make their way through space. The pilots are chattering over their comms, Courfeyrac’s voice bursting in and out as he jokes with his squad.

Enjolras looks up as the door opens with a soft _shush_ , and Combeferre steps through. Enjolras knows he went off-shift hours ago and should be resting, but Combeferre settles himself down beside Enjolras. He clearly hasn’t slept, but not, apparently, for lack of trying. His glasses are askew, his hair puffing out slightly at the back. Enjolras doesn’t have to say anything for Combeferre to shrug, looking sheepish.

“I couldn’t quiet my mind. Figured I’d come be useful instead.”

Enjolras sighs but doesn’t try to argue. If Combeferre isn’t going to sleep, then watching Red Squadron blip across the screen is as restful an activity as any. Enjorlas knows he gets like this with Grantaire – hates for him to be offworld and in danger, no matter how necessary. (Not that Combeferre would ever admit to Courfeyrac that he cares for him in this way, but in Enjolras’ professional opinion as their best friend, Courfeyrac would have to be blind not to see it. Must be blind, actually, and Combeferre must be too, for all the lingering glances and shy grins. Somehow, they’ve fallen in love with each other and are the last people in the entire Rebellion to notice). The mission is easy, it’s something they’ve done countless times, but Combeferre knows that. So Enjolras won’t offer that kind of logic. He can, however, offer a distraction.

“Well,” Enjolras says as he pulls a datapad over. “I actually wanted to ask you about one of these maneuvers.”

They discuss tactics for a bit, mapping routes and scanning formations for any weaknesses. They’ve had some reprieve while on Hoth, but it is foolish to think the Empire isn’t right around the corner.

Courfeyrac’s voice crackles through the comms. “ _Red Leader to base. We’ve got the supplies and are heading back._ ”

“Excellent, Red Leader,” Combeferre answers before Enjolras gets the chance. “We’ll expect you in 0200 hours.”

“ _Is that Combeferre? Ferre, you’re not on shift, go to bed._ ”

“Just focus on flying, alright?” Combeferre shoots back, but there’s warmth in his voice.

“ _Yeah, Courfeyrac,”_ Bossuet cuts in, laughing. “ _Focus on your flying_.”

“ _Whatever, Red Four_ ,” Courfeyrac grumbles. “ _Alright, we’re en route. See you in 0200._ ”

Enjolras confirms, and then he and Combeferre turn back to their work. Combeferre’s shoulders have lost some of their tension, but his eyes dart to the holos every so often, assuring himself that Red Squadron is still somewhere out there in the black.

They’ve come out of hyperspace just past Sullust when Enjolras notices the small red blip on the edge of the map. In the time it takes for him to press his comm, four more have appeared, moving steadily toward Red Squadron.

“Echo Base to Red Leader,” Enjolras says, “you’ve got incoming.”

“ _Kriff. Yeah we do._ ” Courfeyrac mutters before he begins shouting orders.

The shrill twang of a blaster sounds through the comm and the ships disperse. This is always the worst part for Enjolras. He’s not a starfighter pilot, so any aerial combats are out of his control. He has to trust Courfeyrac to lead his squadron – and he does, he trusts Courfeyrac with his _life_ – but it’s hard. From the tense set of Combeferre’s shoulders, Enjorlas knows that he feels just as helpless.

Courfeyrac is good at what he does – he wouldn’t be a commander in the Alliance if he wasn’t. Enjolras watches the holo ships move, hears the shouting and the blasters. Within seconds, Courfeyrac is able to reconfigure the squadron, protecting the supplies and engaging the enemy fighters. The supply freighters make the second jump to hyperspace, one by one until all that’s left are a handful of X-wings.

It looks like they’re all going to make it when there’s a crash, a small explosion, and Courfeyrac lets out a string of curses. On the map, his ship is flashing as it lists toward Sullust below.

“Red Leader, status report,” Enjolras barks into the comm.

Courfeyrac ignores him completely, keeps calling out orders to his squadron. Enjolras tries to call to Courfeyrac again, and then watches a light on his comm blink out as Courfeyrac mutes his end of their connection. There are protests from the pilots as Courfeyrac orders them into hyperspace. The supplies are safe, and there’s no need to risk losing anyone. The _else_ goes unspoken. One by one, the rebel ships blink into hyperspace until only Courfeyrac and Bossuet are left.

“ _Red Leader, what’s your damage?”_

 _“_ _Make the jump, Red Four.”_

_“How bad is your ship?”_

_“You’ve got three Ties on your six, Red Four, go to hyperspace!”_

_“Courfeyrac, I’m not going to leave – ”_

_“You need to go, Bossuet. My engines are kriffing fried. I’m going to try to land but I need you to get back to base. Please.”_

Bossuet is silent for a moment as he weaves between Tie fighters, but he can hear the slight edge of desperation in Courfeyrac’s voice just as clearly as Enjolras and Combeferre can. He mutters an affirmative, a _stay safe, Courf_ , before jumping to hyperspace. Enjolras watches his ship blip off the map, and then Courfeyrac is alone with five enemy ships. The comm light blinks back on.

“Courfeyrac, what’s your status?” Combeferre asks softly.

“ _Oh, you know. Just another day._ ” Courfeyrac laughs but it’s strained as he weaves through the Ties, trying to reach the surface of Sullust.

“Send us your coordinates when you get somewhere safe on Sullust,” Enjolras says.

“ _Of course. Wouldn’t want to get stuck down there_.” Another explosion sounds, much louder this time, and Courfeyrac lets out a sharp gasp.

“Status, Courfeyrac!” Combeferre calls as he and Enjolras watch the X-wing hurtle toward Sullust. There is silence for a few tense moments.

When Courfeyrac speaks, it’s pained. “ _I need to tell you something.”_ Another explosion, a hideous crunching noise. “ _Combeferre, specifically. Not that I don’t value you as well, Enjolras. I have plenty of things I’d like to tell you too, but this is important. Ferre, you need to know I – ”_

There’s a horrific noise of metal rending, a litany of colorful curses from Courfeyrac, a muted grunt of pain, and then nothing. Courfeyrac’s ship blinks off the map entirely. Enjolras stares down as the swarm of Tie fighters disperses and can’t quite catch his breath. Beside him, Combeferre is shaking. Enjolras presses against him, sits beside him, and breathes with him. It’s all he can do.

* * *

It takes ten hours to find the wreckage of Courfeyrac’s X-wing. Enjolras and Combeferre are both part of the search team, are the first out of their shuttles to start looking. The hull of the ship is twisted, his astromech crushed completely, and the engines have all been blown out. The cockpit is a crumpled mess, but Courfeyrac isn’t in it. They find him two miles away, tucked into an alcove between buildings. He’s barely conscious, but he blinks up as Enjolras approaches.

“Took you guys long enough,” he laughs, and there’s blood in his teeth. There’s blood most places, actually, and his eyes are glassy and his leg is definitely broken, and probably his ribs too, but he’s _alive_. Enjolras kneels next to him and breathes properly for the first time since the Ties appeared on the map. He raises his comm to his lips and calls Combeferre.

* * *

Courfeyrac spends several days in a bacta tank as the worst of his wounds heal. Then, he spends another few days sleeping. Enjolras stays with him when he can, but there’s still an Alliance to run, a war to win. He and Combeferre alternate time at Courfeyrac’s bedside, ensuring that someone will be there when he wakes.

Enjolras finishes his shift and makes his way to medical. As he approaches the open door, he hears laughter. Combeferre’s. And Courfeyrac’s. Enjolras stops in the doorway. Courfeyrac is sitting up, grinning at Combeferre. Bruises are still smudged across his face, but he looks healthier than he has in days. Combeferre does too – the drawn, anxious expression that has haunted his face replaced by a soft, warm gaze.

“So,” Combeferre begins tentatively. “I’ve been wondering.”

Courfeyrac studies him curiously. “Wondering what?”

“What were you going to tell me? Before you went down.”

Courfeyrac’s cheeks color and he ducks his head. “Sorry,” he mutters. “A dying confession wasn’t really how I wanted to say it, but desperate times, you know?”

“Say what?”

Courfeyrac squeezes his eyes shut and takes a breath. He reaches over and tangles his fingers with Combeferre’s. “That I love you?”

Combeferre smiles and pulls Courfeyrac into a gentle kiss. Enjolras turns to go, to tell General Lamarque that Combeferre will likely be taking some time off, and is startled by a loud whistle directly behind him. Courfeyrac pulls away from Combeferre only slightly, raising an eyebrow at Grantaire.

“Glad you finally worked it all out,” Grantaire laughs, slinging an arm over Enjolras’ shoulders.

“Me too,” Combeferre says softly, fondly.

Courfeyrac shoos them away, and Enjolras shuts the door with a chuckle. Grantaire clasps his hand and pulls him down the corridor toward the hanger. He’s made some upgrades to the _Farouche_ , he says. Mostly to the ship’s liquor cabinet. Mostly through the acquisition of a pretty nice bottle of Corellian whiskey he won off Bahorel in a game of sabacc. Enjolras allows himself to be pulled along and thinks that the Empire doesn’t stand a chance. Not really. Not when the rebels have each other. Not when they have things worth fighting for.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell about les mis and star wars on [tumblr](https://bossuet-lesgle.tumblr.com)


End file.
